


Language of Flowers

by irishlullaby13



Category: Sleepy Hollow (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Candy Shop, Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, F/M, What Canon?, ichabbie - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-25
Updated: 2016-06-25
Packaged: 2018-07-18 05:43:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7301752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irishlullaby13/pseuds/irishlullaby13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Flower Shop A/U that's been floating about tumblr:  Person A owns a flower shop and person B comes storming in one day, slaps 20 bucks on the counter and says “How do I passive-aggressively say f*ck you in flower?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Language of Flowers

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn't resist.

Ichabod Crane had re-opened his family's little flower shop in the down town district of Sleepy Hollow years ago, it was nestled between a Starbucks and a relatively new candy shop. Thankfully his family had roots in the town since the American Revolution—not to mention he had come from a long line of florists—so the locals were all too pleased to give him business when he moved to America after his grandfather passed and left the family business to him. 

It didn't hurt that he also had a certain flirtatiousness with the neighbouring candy shop owner which enabled him to convince his customers that nothing went better with a lovely bouquet than some sweets.

Much to her current beau's dissatisfaction, Ichabod liked to gift her a flower every morning when she opened at ten. He had done so since she and her sister had started preparing the shop, as a small welcome gift at first. Now he did it because her smile transformed her into a petite shining angel when he gave it to her.

This morning, he had taken time to fashion her a hair clip, using some of the smaller daisies he couldn't use in bouquets. He bound to the door when he saw her SUV pull into its customary spot. He was waiting outside when she approached her shop door, looking more than a little addled. 

“Good morning, Miss Mills,” he greeted lightly. “Is all well?”

She turned her doe eyes up toward him, a pleasant but pained smile on her lips. “At the moment, no... but... hopefully the day will get better. How are _you_ this morning, Mister Crane?”

“My day is much better now that you have arrived,” he said softly, juggling the hair clip in his hands nervously. 

This time her smile was more relaxed. “You know what?” she replied sweetly. “My day _just_ got a lot better for the same reason.” Her eyes flickered to the item in his hands. “What's that?”

Ichabod looked down at the hair clip then held it out toward her. “You were complaining yesterday about your hair getting in your face... so I...” His voice trailed off and his face felt warm. He hoped he wasn't been too terribly obvious with his affections toward her. “Although I am afraid it will only last a few days... I thought... perhaps you may wish to... make use of it. Or not... you don't have to if you do not wish to.”

She delicately took it from his hand and smiled down at it. Miss Mills caught her bottom lip between her teeth to hide an even bigger smile. “I will,” she said softly, then slid her key into the lock on the shop door. “Thank you Mister Crane. Do you have any specials going on today?”

“Yes... Free decorative vase with any delivery order of $20 or more. And you?”

Miss Mills looked down at her feet then back up at him. “$3 off if you buy two pounds of any bulk chocolate product.”

“And it seems our specials have once again paired themselves perfectly,” Ichabod pointed out. 

She caught her bottom lip again and nodded. “They sure did.” She looked away, evidence of a blush touching her cheeks. “You have a good day, Mister Crane.”

“You as well, Miss Mills,” he replied giving her a deep, reverent bow.

He watched her as she entered her shop, locking the door behind her until it was time to open. “Hey, Crane...” a familiar voice chimed followed by a whistle. Ichabod turned to see one of his friends from the re-enactment troop, Mister Joe Corbin, lounging in one of the outside tables at Starbucks enjoying a coffee. “You need to keep your flowery porn crap inside where it belongs. There's kids around, you know,” he teased.

“Do you ever work, Joseph? Or do they pay you to sit about all day heckling me from the Starbucks?” Ichabod asked. He could swear the younger man was always there, never wasting an opportunity to pick on him about his obvious affection for Miss Mills since she had moved in months earlier. Which was all fine and well because Ichabod returned the favour by picking on him about his affections for Miss Mills' sister.

Joe nodded toward the ambulance sitting nearby. He took a drink from his coffee. “I'm on the clock and they don't want us driving around wasting gas, so technically, until I get a call I'm getting paid to heckle you.” He raised his coffee in mock salute. “You should ask her out. I think she likes you... and I mean _actually_ likes you, not in that 'If I'm really nice maybe he will go away on his own' kind of way.”

Ichabod narrowed his eyes at Joe and went back into his shop.

  
#  


The few times he peeked into the candy shop window, once his hired help arrived, Miss Mills was scowling and aggressively sending text missives. She had already put her hair clip to good use, he observed. He eventually retreated to his office, coming out only when he heard the bell over the shop entry clang loudly, as though someone had shoved the door open with all their might.

Miss Mills' tiny form stormed up to the counter, her eyes locked on him. She slapped a twenty dollar bill down on the wooden surface, determination in her eyes. “How do I passive-aggressively say 'fuck you' in flower?” she huffed.

His hired helped slowly turned from her task of organizing pre-made bouquets in the cooled display.

Ichabod blinked at the diminutive woman in surprise as he approached the counter. “I... I beg your pardon?” He had never seen Miss Mills angry before. The stern set of her gaze, the slight up-tilt of her chin, and lips forming something between a purse and a pout added a fierce and intimidating grace to her normal attractiveness. Then again, he thought, he was probably a bit biased on the aspects of her beauty as he was absolutely in love with her.

“I need a polite way to tell my soon-to-be ex-boyfriend to shove a baseball bat up his ass sideways,” Miss Mills said, smiling sweetly and batting her eyelashes. “And I want to take advantage of that special you're running with the vase. And I need it delivered to the FBI offices as soon as possible.”

He was at a complete and total loss as to what was happening. What, exactly, was she requesting?

Thankfully his hired help breezed up. “I think we have some wilting roses in the back... and a few things that got mangled during shipping from our supplier,” the young woman offered. “We can have something fixed up in no time.”

“Thank you, Miss Zoe,” Miss Mills chimed sweetly. “I'll take it. And I would like to include one of those little card things that says 'Go fuck yourself. Love, Abbie'.”

“We'll have it there by lunchtime,” Miss Zoe promised with a bright smile.

Miss Mills then turned and left, leaving her funds on the counter. 

“What just happened?” Ichabod asked once the door closed behind Miss Mills.

“She's breaking up with her boyfriend,” Zoe explained. She looked up at him. “Which means you can finally ask her out on a date.”

“Have I really been that obvious?” Ichabod asked. “You're the second person to suggest that today.”

Zoe stared at him like she was mentally wondering how the hell he was so stupid. “Let's see... you make sure to greet her every morning. You've been giving her little gifts every day. You two have lunch together almost every day and if you don't you always bring something back for each other. I mean, everyone already thinks you two are... involved. And... you're not the only one being obvious about things.”

Ichabod felt his face warm.

“So, do you want me to make the delivery or would you like to do it?” Zoe asked.

Oh, like he would honestly pass up the opportunity to personally deliver this particular one...

  
#  


They had been at it since the night before. Danny had asked her how her day had been over dinner. Abbie had been honest. It had gone good. Business hadn't been too heavy but her and Jenny had stayed busy. When the midday lunch seekers had thinned out, she had gone to get a sandwich at Panera, just like she did every Tuesday. Had a nice chat with the guy that ran the flower shop while they waited their turn to order and ended up sitting together to continue talking.

_“Again?” Danny asked incredulously. “What is it with this guy always being at the same places you're having lunch? Is he following you, Abs?”_

_“Um... no?” Abbie replied slowly. “We literally have shops right next to each other. In the same shopping centre. Where we have access to the same six places to eat every day. If anything I'm following him because he's always in line in front of me.”_

_“I don't know... I just don't trust the guy. He acts too flirty with you.”_

_Abbie eyed Danny for a long moment. “So what you're saying is... you don't trust_ me _.”_

_“I said I didn't trust_ him _,” Danny clarified. His eyes went to her necklace. “Is that new?”_

_Abbie felt her face warm as she touched the resin pendant with a rosebud trapped inside of it. At that point she knew she could lie and say she bought it from the jewellery store around the corner from her shop. Or she could tell the truth and say her shop neighbour had shown it off during their lunch—he had started dabbling in making the pendants after seeing how expensive they were at other places and wanted to see if he could make his own and offer them for considerably less._

_“I bought it from the flower shop next door,” she half lied. In truth he had given it to her after she had admired it numerous times in the course of their meal. But she also knew Danny would have a fit if he knew._

_“Oh? How much did it cost?” Danny asked._

_Abbie sighed and rolled her eyes. “What the hell is wrong with you?”_

_“I told you, Abbie... I don't trust--”_

_“_ Me _. You don't trust me.”_

_“I didn't say--”_

_“But you're sure as hell implying it,” Abbie snapped. “What? You think just because some... good looking guy with big blue eyes tells me I'm pretty and gives me little trinkets every day that I'm going to jump in the sack with him?”_

_“Oh, so he_ gave _you the necklace and you think he's good looking,” Danny groused. “That's exactly why I don't trust him. You don't go around telling another man's woman that she's pretty and giving her presents.”_

_Abbie's arched her brows in challenge. “I'm not even going to touch that whole chauvinistic comment that implied you own me... But don't be afraid to just say what you're really thinking, Danny... You don't trust me. Stop playing. If it was really about not trusting him, you wouldn't be acting like this. If you trusted me you would know that you have nothing to worry about,” Abbie stated, getting up from the table. She threw her napkin down on her plate and stormed off to her room._

And it hadn't stopped there. They had bickered about it until she asked him to leave her house. Then he had tried to apologize that morning only to start up again when she mentioned going to the shop early to do inventory. Things had gotten more and more heated until she'd had to step into the back office, once Jenny got there, so the customers wouldn't hear them arguing over the fact she had posted a picture of the hair clip on her Facebook and Instagram.

“I was just trying to show it off to my girlfriends,” Abbie groaned, rubbing her eyes. “Because, you know, prom season is coming up they might have daughters that are interested.”

Then he had the audacity to imply she had done it just to annoy him. “Oh. My. God,” Abbie had finally squeaked. “Not everything is about you. You know what, Danny, fuck you. I am done with this shit. I am done with you. Happy?” Danny had tried to apologize again. “No... no... forget it. We're done. _Done_.”

That had set off a text battle until she had finally stormed to the flower shop next door and demanded a 'fuck you' bouquet. She had seen Mister Crane head out with it about half an hour ago, walking briskly toward the little pickup truck they did deliveries in. As a final token of her affection she had included a small bag of peanut clusters out of spite because she knew Danny was allergic to peanuts and wouldn't be able to eat them.

But she had at least been nice enough to put a big tag on them that said 'Product contains peanuts' surrounded by little hearts so he couldn't say she was trying to kill him. She watched the clock, trying to gauge about how long it would take Mister Crane to make to the FBI and then to deliver the bouquet. Right on cue, her phone started beeping and chiming as Danny started blowing her phone up with text messages and then tried to call her three times in a row.

Most of his texts were in the realm of 'what the fuck' and demands for her to call him to which she eventually replied 'New phone. Who dis?' She left her phone in the office until she saw Danny's black SUV pull in and park in front of the flower shop. It was then that she ran back to retrieve her phone to check her messages. To say Danny was pissed and had come to beat Mister Crane's ass would be an accurate translation of the messages that had come since she left it in her office.

She scurried through the shop, the few customers in store turning to look curiously as she was squeaking “shit shit shit shit...” the entire way. Abbie wasn't sure what they were discussing but she reached the door just in time to see Danny deck Mister Crane. She shoved open the door. “ _Danny_ ,” Abbie barked.

She was surprised Crane was still standing. She had seen Danny lay out men twice his size. Instead Crane was merely leaning on his counter for support as he rubbed his jaw. Zoe was several steps behind Crane with her hands over her mouth. Crane shook his head to clear it then stood straight and smoothed down the apron he wore while making arrangements. His mouth was bleeding but he still managed to make himself look like a perfectly composed gentleman.

“I shall ask you to leave this establishment immediately, sir, before I have my employee telephone the authorities,” Mister Crane said calmly.

Danny finally turned toward Abbie, he was clearly annoyed. “This guy had the nerve to say you sent some messed up bouquet to the office for me...”

Abbie folded her arms over her chest. “I _did_. And because of crap like this, is exactly why I did it.” Even though she knew it would only annoy Danny even more, she hurried over to Mister Crane to make sure he was okay. He tried lightly waving her away, quietly requesting that she not fuss over him.

“Abbie...” Danny said, his voice tender and apologetic.

Abbie glared at him sharply. “Don't. Just don't. Get out of here, Danny.” She looked toward Zoe. “Are you okay, Miss Zoe?” the girl nodded mutely. She looked back at Danny and pointed at the door. “Don't let it hit you on the way out.” 

As soon as Danny was gone, Mister Crane's composure fell away and he sank onto the little stool behind the counter, groaning as he rubbed his jaw.

“Miss Zoe, go see if that EMT guy is still over at Starbucks. If he's not and the ambulance is still outside, go see if he's in my shop talking to Jenny. Please?”

The girl nodded and hurried out. Abbie knelt down in front of Mister Crane. “Are you okay...? Okay that was a dumb question... Are you going to be all right?”

He chuckled lightly and sat upright, dropping his hands away from his face. “It is hardly the first time I've been assaulted for defending a lady's honour.” His eyes twinkled affectionately. “But just a fair warning, as a friend, I am rather concerned about Mister Reynolds' temper.”

Abbie chuckled lightly and reached up to brush a lock of hair away that had fallen into his eyes. “Well... no need to worry. He's not going to be coming around me any time soon.” She sighed and shook her head. “You didn't have to defend my honour...”

“You were not present, therefore, someone had to,” Mister Crane stated firmly. “And I would happily do it again.” He grimaced. “I think I may have swallowed a tooth...”

Abbie looked toward the door as the bell chimed when Zoe and Joe, medical bag in hand, entered. She stepped back to let Joe do his work, Mister Crane's eyes following her as she edged around the counter. “I'll just... I'll come check on you in a little bit. Okay?”

Mister Crane closed his eyes and bowed his head politely in acceptance. Abbie returned to her shop, which was now empty except for Jenny because her customers were looming outside of the flower shop trying to be nosy and see what was going on. 

“What happened?” Jenny asked. “Is our overly friendly neighbour okay? Zoe said Danny punched him pretty hard.”

“Then you know what happened,” Abbie replied. “I don't know anything else except he was apparently defending my honour...” She preened lightly. “But I'll try to find out more later.”

Jenny snorted. “I bet you will.” Abbie looked at her speculatively. “Like... how sturdy his counter top is...” Jenny clarified.

“ _Jenny_!” Abbie yelped, feeling her face warm.

About half an hour later customers started wandering back in and she saw Mister Crane go to his little pick-up truck, waving Joe away. Joe at least stopped in her window long enough to give her a thumbs up. She wasn't sure if he was letting her know Crane was going to be all right or something else. But Jenny sure as hell scurried out to walk back toward the Starbucks with Joe.

A couple hours later the little pick up returned and Mister Crane paused at the pavement for a moment, staring at her shop, before going to his own.

  
#  


Preparing three dozen or so corsage and boutonnière sets was tedious work on any given day. But doing so with a jaw that would spontaneously burst into a blinding pain made it quite dreadful. Hopefully that would be resolved once he was able to get into a dentist and get the damage repaired.

He had closed up shop roughly two hour earlier and had stayed over to finish the ones due out early in the morning. At roughly 8pm, Miss Mills made her way to her vehicle and Ichabod sighed heavily, wishing he'd taken time to speak to her once he had returned from his doctor to make certain he didn't have a broken jaw—he didn't, although he had in fact swallowed a tooth as he had theorized.

He was ready to give up for the day when a timid knock sounded on the entry door. Ichabod looked up, pulling off the specs he used only when working, to see Miss Mills at the door. She smiled sweetly and waved. That's when he noticed her little SUV had not moved from its customary spot.

Ichabod stood as he set down the corsage he had been working on and removed his apron. He hoped and prayed he hadn't seemed too overly eager to make it to the door to let her in, with a welcoming bow. “Miss Mills, always a pleasure,” he said, closing the door and locking up once she was inside.

She held out a cardboard container emblazoned with the logo from Panera. “I didn't know if you had eaten anything for supper...” she said by way of explanation as he took the container.

Ichabod lifted the plastic lid just enough to inhale the contents. “Creamy tomato...” he sighed wistfully. “You are truly a treasure Miss Mills.”

A bright smile crossed her lips and she looked down at her feet, shuffling from one foot to the other a few times. “Well, I knew it was your favourite and... I wasn't sure if you could eat solid foods.” She reached up to touch his injured jaw then seemed to think better of it and switched to the other side, using the back of her fingers to stroke his bearded cheek. “Thank you... for whatever you said to defend me.”

His heart seemed to stumble around in his chest. “I had merely suggested that you were a very kind and generous woman... and he took it that you and I had...” he fidgeted lightly. “ _Engaged_ in certain behaviours... and I reiterated that you were fastidiously loyal to him despite my believing you deserved better than some polrumptious malapert whom wished to parade you about as nothing more than a trophy.”

“I have no idea what a polrumptious malapert is but... damn,” Abbie said with a playful cringe. “No wonder he punched you.”

Ichabod laughed quietly. “It's a very... grandiose manner in which to call someone an ass.” He hurried to his office and returned with a chair and set it next to the one at his work station, sweeping his hand toward it. “Please, have a seat.”

Miss Mills set a Panera bag of her own on the desktop and took a seat. She removed a foam container from the bag as he reclaimed his seat. She enjoyed a sandwich whilst Ichabod carefully sipped at his soup in companionable silence. Once he neared the bottom of the container, he shifted it in his hands nervously. He had been mulling it over how to breech the subject of, perhaps, expanding their current friendship to something of a romantic variety. “So, what are your plans now that you have successfully ended your relationship with Mister Reynolds?”

She looked up at him in surprise, her eyes widening as she slowly placed her sandwich back into the carton and swallowed what she had in her mouth. Miss Mills shifted in her seat so she was facing him. “I... wasn't sure at first but... I was debating maybe taking a minute to... enjoy being single.”

_A minute_. If he was to understand American linguistics—which the longer he stayed, the better he came to understand it—that was often a slang term for an indeterminate amount of time and seldom a literal minute.

“Oh... well... that is certainly understandable,” Ichabod replied, nodding. “Especially given the tumultuous manner which you parted ways.” He wasn't entirely conscious of what he said after that, just that he started rambling endlessly about journeys of self-discovery and the key to happiness... All he knew was that he really needed to shut up but seemed unable to do so, whilst constantly shifting the empty soup carton in his hands.

Miss Mills' eyes twinkled mischievously and flickered to something just beyond his shoulder.

The only thing that managed to silence him was when Miss Mills put her hand on his uninjured cheek and eased out of her seat to lightly press her lips to his. When she sat back down in her seat, he was at a complete and total lose of words and simply stared at her, trying to form words that would not come out.

Miss Mills closed her eyes and moistened her lips. “Sorry,” she said with a smile. “That minute I was talking about had passed.”

“ _Oh_ ,” he squeaked. He turned in his seat to see that there was, in fact, a clock hanging on the wall behind him. “I was of the understanding that... when one said 'a minute' it was not... literal.”

“Well... this once it was literal,” Miss Mills tease and leaned in again.

Ichabod leaned in as well, not quite going in for a kiss just yet. “Miss Mills... would it be untoward for a gentleman such as myself to ask you out on a date?”

Miss Mills grinned wickedly. “A gentleman _such as_ yourself... it would be _very_ untoward. But if that gentleman is, in fact, you... I would be....” She squenched her face for a moment. “ _Most amenable_ to the offer.”

“Ah, well, Miss Mills,” Ichabod said softly. “It is me.”

“I thought so,” she replied and closed the distance between their lips. It didn't last long as, almost immediately, Ichabod had to lean back and grasp his aching jaw. Mills Mills laughed softly. “Sorry... Sorry... I guess we'll just have to wait until you've healed to do more kissing.”

Ichabod took her hand and lightly kissed the back of it. “I whole-heartedly anticipate it.”

  
#  


Roughly a week later, Abbie was in the kitchen humming a tune while cooking breakfast that a knock sounded at her door. “Hey, Babe, Jenny and Joe's here!” she called up the stairs before going to the door to open it.

It wasn't Jenny and Joe.

It was Danny. Abbie pursed her lips and tilted her head to look at the little bouquet wrapped in decorative cellophane before looking up at Danny. “Really?” she asked briskly.

“Abs... Hear me out,” Danny said gently. “I realize that... I was being, well, a jerk.”

Abbie blinked at him. “Mmhmm.” She craned her neck to peer around him as Jenny and Joe pulled into the driveway. “Can you make this quick? My sister and her boyfriend are here for breakfast then we're all heading up to mountains to go camping.”

Danny sighed with annoyance. “Abbie, I--” his voice trailed off as Abbie heard the fall of shoeless feet on the stairs behind her. 

“I would have been down quicker had _someone_ not insisted upon waking me up with a bl—Oh, good morning, Mister Reynolds.” 

It took every ounce of her self control to keep from grinning like a jackass as she turned to see Ichabod dismount the stairs while tugging on a t-shirt. He turned his course for the door and came to stand at her side, hand at the small of her back.

“I shall finish the breakfast preparations, my dearest treasure,” Ichabod said gently and kissed her cheek before heading toward the kitchen.

Abbie looked back at Danny and cleared her throat. He looked ready to kill something with his bare hands. She could only guess that something was Ichabod Crane. “You were saying, Danny?” she asked.

Danny looked at her then over her shoulder and huffed with annoyance. His jaw clenched. “He just... Abbie... I _hate_ that guy.”

She couldn't help but wonder what Ichabod had done. “Yeah well, your opinion of him doesn't matter to me.”

Jenny bound up the steps, looked Danny over then said, “Huh... You do know she'd dating an actual florist now so the Wal-Mart bouquets don't work any more, right?” as she squeezed past him to go inside. Joe quickly made his way past Danny, avoiding eye contact.

Abbie cleared her throat again. “Anyway. Your time is up. And I thought I told you not to call me, text me, write me letters, instant message me, or come anywhere near my house or shop again?”

“Abbie...”

“Look, Ichabod was nice enough to _not_ press charges because he was adamant that you are probably a good FBI agent and shouldn't lose your job over one small indiscretion,” Abbie stated. “So, get off my porch... and it will stay that way, got it?”

She gave him a little wave, shut the door, then went to join the others in the kitchen.


End file.
